Saturday, October 25, 2008
Last night is a great example, I woke up at 3:30 with a very full bladder and was unable to DO anything about it because, you know, if you leave the safety of the covers then you're vulnerable to the baddies. In this case "the baddies" were, in fact, a dude stalking my friend Veronika who then tried to kidnap/kill/something her such that they found themselves in the woods with him perusing her. He, in desperation, grabbed an axe. She, being a bad-ass, grabs an axe-intended-for-fires (just go with it) and summarily kicks his ass then runs away. So really, my damn brain has the nerve to dream up a horror movie (bad) but the sense to make Veronkia the unequivocal heroine/winner (good). There was even some part where I (the Meg character in my stupid horror movie dream) said something like, "that guy sure picked the wrong girl to mess with" and acknowledged that If I, real-world-or-dream-Meg, were placed in the same situation, I would definitely loose an axe fight.
Also, you know how your friends aren't usually very realistic in your dreams? How they have the names but not really the attributes you associate with your friends? Well, axe-killer-ass-kicker Veronika (and her spunky dream-roommate, Lauren T.) were exactly like they are in real life. Except, you know, persued by a deranged dude with an axe.
WHY ARE THESE THINGS IN MY BRAIN!? UNACCEPTABLE!
Well, I'll have the whole early morning drive to c'ville to ponder it, I suppose. Whee for rainy pledge-project weekends!
Friday, October 24, 2008
"Well, hello Ten P.M.! What's that? You'd like to take me to bed now? Oh well I...I...I mean...a nice girl...oh Ten P.M. I cannot resist your wiles! I'm yours!"
Why yes, yes, there are little old ladies who routinely stay up later than I want to. Thank you for asking.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
There are some things in life which appear to be way, way better the second time around. The second time you listen to a fantastic piece of music you are better able to appreciate its subtle complexity as well as the overall musical arc. The second bite of delicious, delicious cake is sometimes even better than the first because you know what to expect - also, it's delicious, delicious cake. There are probably other examples, since the rule of threes is a good writing technique.So far, I think high school might be another of these phenomena. I like high schoolers now waaayyyy more than I think I did as a high schooler myself. They're just so darn cute. Sure, they do all sorts of mean things to each other - but they're 16, can we really expect much better behavior from them, really? Methinks not. Methinks they're adorable, just as they are.
In other, related news, we chaperoned Patrick Henry High School's homecoming dance this weekend. Hilarity. Ensued. My feministy free-expression-of-sexuality-esque sensibilities make me a particularly poor choice of dance chaperon, it seems, since grindydancing doesn't really seem that unnecessarily scandalous to me. I mean, sure, I'll do a lot of head-wagging at what seems unclassy behavior but...neither Mary nor I could muster quite the unrepentant disgust and ire that many of our colleagues carried through the dance floor like a shield. The thing that bothered us both most, really, was that we could only come down on girls for dance-scandal, since the boys job in The Grindydance was usually just to stand there and get ground allupons. Also, boys were rarely flashing their panties while grinding in microminis.
Since "dance rules" were up to the discretion of the chaperon, ours developed as such:
- Her hands can't touch the floor
- Both her feet can't leave the floor
- No crotch shots
- No crowd surfing
- No touching, with your hands, the bikini regions of your dance partner
We did NOT make "no makeyouty" a rule. I don't know what Mary's rationale was, but mine was definitely that hilarity factor coupled with shame will probably squelch the problem before it gets out of hand. And really, if you've never seen a 16-17 year old boy pull his ladylove in for an "I'm grabbing the back of your head like I'm trying to suck your brains out, fo' real I'm a zombie I forgot to tell you" kiss - you haven't known how hard you could laugh.
I know, in a few years, these feelings of "hey, children, you should know about BEDROOM STYLE DANCING" that are sort of bubbling around in my brain will probably take over and I'll be all horrified and scandalized by The GrindyDance as well (and really - it isn't particularly classy... but neither are frat parties or dance clubs, the two types of dance floor these children appear desperately to want to approximate). Some day, these kids will look a lot younger than they do now. But I don't really want to expend a grand amount of my energy being scandalized at awkward, adolescent expressions of exploratory sexuality, really. It seems like kind of a waste of time, as well as a puritan sex ethic I'm fairly positive I don't want to buy into, implications about the death of childhood be damned. Childhood as we now know it is a Victorian ideal anyway - perhaps it's time we let it exist in a more complex realm.
Ms. R - the Principal of our high school, perhaps shares my opinion. She, too, shook her head at a lot of the dance, but it was a head-shake-accompanied-by-chuckle. She's a Running-A-Tight-Ship esque woman to begin with. Maybe Grindydancing doesn't bother her that much because she, too, is a sexually liberated feministy woman. Maybe it's because she's the one the seriously bad behavior goes to, so the grindydance isn't that big of a deal. Who knows?
It just seems like a lot of energy to expend over a little good, clean dirty dancing.
Friday, October 17, 2008
So. Cool. Oh Benjam, always out there, bein' the coolest.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
You are a Pretty Cute Dude attending the totally alternative and delightfully vegan wedding reception of two of your closest friends from college. You become aware that Some Chick Who Grew Up With The Bride is all trying to talk to you 'n stuff. She's pretty friendly. And Loud. And, if you do say so yourself, she looks kind of fierce and her mask is tres snappy (it is a Masquerade themed wedding gathering -which is way more fun and classier sounding than it suddenly seems right now. I promise). This chick, should you give yourself the opportunity to get to know her, is probably a Cool Dude. Do you:
1. Talk to her like a normal person. Engage her in the totally normal-person conversation that she's attempting to initiate and see if you two can be Normal Friends on a Normal Friendly level. Hey - no one ever died of a 20 minute conversation, right? If it's awkward and you don't enjoy one another, it's cool. She'll probably get it too, then you never have to speak again. If you choose this option, go to paragraph FOUR (4).
2. Talk to her like a person who is very frightened and has been cornered here, in the bathroom line, by someone who is about to attack him with venomous snakes. How do you like your job as a paralegal? SHIT! THIS IS PROBABLY A TRAP OF THE MOST NEFARIOUS NATURE! If you choose this option, go to paragraph FIVE (5).
3. RUN AWAY. OH SHIT GIRLS!
4. Alright, so you're talking, you have many things in common, you are funny, she is funny, the funny is just rolling along at lightning speed. Wow - it's almost like girls are people too - not just scary monsters! You start thinking to yourself, hey, this girl may be flirting with me. Ooh la-la and tres extreme. You can't possibly be that surprised because, as anyone with any sense knows, floppy hair, a scruffy beard, and an obvious terror of women are total turn ons for some people. Some people who may be associated with this blog in some ways or other. Anyway - that chick is totally thinking about digging you. Do you (A) decide that some makey-outy wouldn't be the worst thing in the world? If so, go to paragraph SIX (6). Or do you (B) decide that "just friends" is probably best, all things considered? If so, go to paragraph SEVEN (7).
5. Shit. She continues to be at this party despite your not wanting to talk to her. Sometimes, you're even in the same room. This is clearly a trap. RUN AWAY. OH SHIT, GIRLS!
6. You, your floppy hair, and this foxy lady find yourselves "accidentally" alone outside. She says, "oh, sorry...am I making you uncomfortable?" during an awkward silence, "you say yes...well...no...well...it's just that...I can't stop myself from thinking about kissing you..." She says, "Oh...is that a problem?" MAKEY-OUTY OF THE BEST ROMANCE NOVEL TYPE ENSUES. Then she gets all attached to you, probably, and stalks you on facebook like a million times a day. She's not a creeper...just a specific type of romantic? Regardless it was probably a good wedding-time makey-outy, right? Sucess! You win!
7. Hey, this friends thing works out pretty well, probably! You two have a lovely time chatting and keep loosely in touch for years to come, especially when the chick visits your mutual friends. Congratulations - you made a new friend! Success! You win!
8. WHY ARE THERE SILL GIRLS HERE?! RUN. AWAY.
Quick summary of my life, for me, so that when I look back on my blog, I'll remember that I do things:
- I visited C'ville 2 weeks ago and had a fabulous time and stayed with my fabulous little and played a fabulous kareoke game. Then I met Mary at a fabulous wine festival where we tasted fabulous wines and saw crafts. FABULOUS!
- Jobz = nothing too new to report, except that I adore the kids (still) and don't always adore the bureaucracy.
- Megan and Nathan's wedding reception was beyond beautiful, and super fun, and I love them immensely and am so honored to have been included in this terrific festivity.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
1. We don't have internet in the apartment right now. Fo' realz yo'. It's rough.
2. JDate e-mails me all the time. I am not even kidding, dudes. All the time. It's gotten to the point where I become moderately wary of opening my inbox every time I do enter an internet zone (aka: work) because I know there are goign to be a lot of e-mails there, from JDate. Judging me.
2b. I knew I wouldn't be able to contain my BlogSelf and would, invariably, mention JDate within approximately 4 secons of opening the blog screen. Then I'd have to be all like, "no, it's not what you think!" and then I'd feel like a creeper. A sad, sad, sad creeper.
3. Work is exhaustingly busy most days, which is a positive in the long run, but leaves no time con los internet-os for blogging.
If those don't constitute as a pile-o-excuses, I don't know what do.